David Lewis Paget

Death Whispers In My Ear - Poem by David Lewis Paget

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The doctors said: ‘Take her away, There's nothing we can do, The life is seeping from her bloodHer soul is weeping too, But keep her in a darkened roomAnd hidden from the light, Perhaps you'll gain a week or twoBefore her soul takes flight! '

I drove her to ‘The Grange' at that, Post haste, in coach and four, I veiled her in black crepe and lace, She fainted at the door.I carried her, she was so slightI feared she might be dead, And laid her on the davenportA pillow at her head.

I covered her with red damaskAnd drew the velvet drapes, There'd be no light for her againThis side of heaven's gates, She stirred in her deliriumAnd sighed with every tear, ‘Once you were mine, but now I findDeath whispers in my ear! '

I lit a single candle, andThe beam fell on her face, Though she was in extremis sheHad lost but little grace, If only she had looked at meTo whisper words of love, But he was near, Sir Ralph de Vere, And ruled her from above.

He'd lured her from our marriage bedAnd had his way with her, He'd dazzled her with sweet perfumesAnd trinkets by the score, He'd danced her off her pretty feetAnd turned her face from me, And like a fool, I fought a duelWith aristocracy.

Two pistols primed, he turned and firedBut most erratically, His Second begged to cease it thereBut I aimed carefully, My first had pinged his shoulderBut he stood his ground, and stared, The second bullet, true and straightLeft Ralph de Vere quite dead!

The Seconds swore it legal whenThe Magistrate was called, But not so my Elizabeth; No! - She was quite appalled.She sank into a stupor thereOf shock and binding grief, ‘You've taken all my love, ' she cried, ‘You're just a petty thief! '

A week she lay within these wallsA week of no respite, I heard some ghostly mutteringsAround The Grange at night, And then an apparition formedBeside that davenport, That wraithlike Peer, Sir Ralph de VereThat I had set at naught.

The wraith leant over where she lay, Held out a bony hand, She rose up from the davenportAnd laughed that she could stand, They drifted from that hateful room, Where I would have to stay, Her body on the davenportThey faded both away.

I paced about that fateful nightAnd raged there in the gloom, Her stolen soul had taken flightFrom dearth, within that room.And now I find my nightly plightIs worse than dreamless fear, Its bony hands caught at my throat, Death whispers in my ear!